Ravens Deep (one) (8 page)

             
Where did he live?

             
He had indicated back through the woods. Now, I wondered where exactly. I could not imagine a cottage or house here, there was no easy path or road.  It was devoid of any man-made intrusion of any kind and it was easy to believe that these woods had remained this way since the beginning of time. Beautiful and unchanging, oblivious to a modern world where so many people have forgotten or even know that places like this exist.

             
Just the same, I couldn’t help thinking about him. Darius had left a distracting

impression
on my mind and I had to admit that I was more than a little curious just how close he was living to Ravens Deep. The path continued downwards getting narrower all the time and it really was not safe to stray from it, because of the steep bank on the left side and the deep ravine to the right. I assumed that if I kept walking this path would lead me all the way down to the sea.

             
Maybe this was an old smuggler's route.

             
It certainly was in the middle of nowhere, a safe haven where boats could have brought their ill gotten gains. Ironically that idea suddenly seemed to make sense. Could it be that Ravens Deep had been used as an old smuggler’ haunt.  Therefore its location had not been widely publicized, and the records erased to ensure the locals would not be aware of what occurred right on their very doorstep. The Exmoor coast had been notorious for smuggling in its past.  Maybe that was indeed the answer to the mystery of Ravens Deep, if there was a mystery to be revealed, or perhaps I was just allowing my imagination to run riot.

 
              Just as I began to wonder where I was, the woodlands suddenly seemed lighter and there was a clearing in the distance.  Beyond the clearing, I could definitely see the sea. So I had been right, it was a long, difficult but direct path down to the coast. The perfect place for smugglers!

             
The steep bank on my left had fallen away to reveal a sudden drop off, and I was

looking
down on a stone building.

             
A cottage, Darius‘s cottage?

             
It was difficult to see clearly as the thickness of the overhanging trees kept it well hidden. I continued downwards and the path curved around towards the stone building. In fact I had been walking downhill for a considerable time, eventually I would have to walk back to Ravens Deep.  That journey back would be arduous as it would mainly be uphill, but I put that thought out of my mind for the time being and carried on down. The path curved abruptly, getting even steeper and as I turned the corner, I came face to face, not with the cottage I had imagined, but a very old stone church.

             
A crumbling stone wall surrounded both the church and graveyard and I walked along the perimeter to find the entrance, via an iron gate. I unhooked the worn latch and the gate opened easily.  The graveyard was overgrown with nettles and long grasses, but still visible were several gravestones scattered throughout.  A few graves had been tended, as the weeds and nettles had been removed, and that was surprising as I felt sure that this remote church could not be in use.

             
Maybe relatives come here once in a while and maintain their ancestor's graves.

             
The only access to this church was the way I had come, as there did not appear to be a road or path leading to anywhere else.  Although it might be possible to get down to the sea through the thick undergrowth, but evidently no one had tried in years, as it was a tangled mass.

             
I walked around the exterior of the ancient church. The spire appeared to be made of deal and slate. It was an early example, possibly twelfth century, and had been well preserved even though small areas of the main stone walls were now crumbling away. The porch seemed a little newer; it had a plain pointed arch made of rough red sandstone.

             
Underneath the porch, the south and only doorway encased a heavy old wooden door.  I lifted its ancient latch and went inside.  I was pleasantly surprised to find the interior in very good condition. I had expected something little better than a ruin. 

             
The church was very cool and I felt the sudden stillness that you often get when walking into ancient buildings. The pews were still intact, as was the altar table. The font which was of a very early date, judging by its medieval depictions, stood to the back of the church, but the interior was devoid of any elaborate decoration or religious icons and from the ceiling hung a simple metal chandelier with candles that were partially burnt down.

             
It was certainly the smallest church I had ever visited and I figured that it could only have held a congregation of twenty five to thirty at the most. I noticed the stone slabs on the floor were inscribed with Latin words and numbers. I absently wondered if there was a crypt here, it seemed too small. The interior of the church had chilled me and there was definitely an eerie quality inside. The entire place had an atmosphere of ancient melancholy about it and I was glad to pull the door closed behind me.

Instantly I felt more cheerful as the sunshine warmed my skin and I began to

walk around the graveyard reading the various inscriptions on the gravestones. They all

seemed
very old and many of the surnames were missing.

             
Have they just worn away or been deliberately removed?

             
To remove a name from a gravestone seemed such a strange thing to do these days, but I knew how superstitious people had been in the past and perhaps it could have occurred. The fifteenth century churchyard cross stood straight and erect.  Although relatively new, it had been mentioned in the old book that I had found in the library and it appeared to stand guard over the whole graveyard.  It was roughly eleven feet tall and the plinth on which it stood gave it extra magnificence.

             
I remembered reading that this area had a numerous leper colony at one time.  I found myself wondering just how many of those unfortunate people had been buried here.  Or maybe they had never been allowed to be buried in hallowed ground, due to local superstitions of the time. I thought that it certainly would be an interesting piece of research to do as I finished looking at the graves closest to the church. 

             
A little distance away from the main graveyard, four raised sarcophaguses were partly hidden under an old gnarled oak tree that overhung the stone wall. As I approached, I saw that one had more ornate carvings than the others, depicting vines and hunting scenes. I moved closer. Over the years the elements had decayed and weathered their stone surfaces and the moss and lichen had grown profusely over them, making it difficult to define the engravings. I walked slowly around each one, wondering who these long forgotten people were.  Maybe wealthy landowners of their time, since their remains lay preserved in more ornate tombs. I studied the one closest to me and my eyes moved downwards.

             
My breathing became momentarily suspended as I stared in shock at the sight before me.  Despite this beautiful warm summer’s day, a cold chill came over me and I was aware of the tiny hairs on my arms and neck standing on end.

             
A small bunch of honeysuckle and wild rose had been laid on the lowest plinth of the tomb.  The flowers were neatly tied with a piece of grass and their petals had begun to wilt, as they had been there for a few hours. It was not the fact that somebody else had visited this graveyard recently, or left flowers on this particular tomb, but what totally caught me off guard and chilled me to the bone was the delicate carved lettering at the base.

             
Madeline Shaw 1818 - 1860. May She Finally Rest In Peace.

Chapter Six - Supernatural Discernment

             
Seeing my name carved out in stone was troubling to my mind.  Although it was

conceivable
that elsewhere in the world there were various tombs with that very name.

             
Why shouldn’t there be? My name is not that unique. But why here, was it coincidence, or something else?

             
I stayed beside that tomb for a while, a morbid curiosity taking over my senses. 

             
Who had she been, and why are there flowers on her tomb, when every other grave is bare?

             
I consoled myself with the thought that I had made this journey, it wasn’t as though I had been lured to this churchyard.  Only I had power over my own destiny, no-one else was involved, this was just the strangest of coincidences. I felt calmed by that knowledge.

             
After that the rest of the afternoon at the graveyard passed quickly. It was getting late when I looked at my watch and thought about the journey back to Ravens Deep. I closed the old iron gate behind me and looked at the path I had used earlier. It really did seem to end at the church, as beyond that the stinging nettles were waist high and I had no intention of wading through them to find out if the path continued again.  Instead, I retraced my footsteps back the way I had come and wondered if I would make it back before nightfall.

             
It did in fact take considerably more time to walk back to Ravens Deep than I had

anticipated
. The woodlands had grown cooler and the dappled light through the tree-top

canopy
was growing steadily darker.  I had to stop to catch my breath several times, although I was used to walking in the city and its parks, I was definitely not used to uphill country hiking. The sun was just setting as the woodlands began to thin out and over the hedgerows in the distance, the stone chimneys of Ravens Deep came into view. I breathed a sigh of relief, I did not want to be in dark unfamiliar woods as night fell.

             
Within minutes the sun had disappeared, allowing my surroundings to take on a soft diffused glow. As I reached the garden gate, I heard a voice close behind me. Startled, I jumped and spun around to find Darius a few feet from me.

             
“I did not mean to frighten you,” he began. 

             
“Didn’t’t you say that to me yesterday?” I replied, recovering quickly from my surprise. I smiled, relieved to see it was him, although mildly annoyed that he had again caused me some alarm. I turned towards him and took in his appearance in one casual glance.  He looked pale tonight, as if unwell, which was accentuated by the shadows of darkness that had begun to loom all around us. 

             
“Where did you come from? I didn’t’t see you on the path,” I asked indignantly. He stepped closer to me and I was aware of a magnetism that seemed to draw me to him.

             
“Please forgive me, I always walk up here at this time of night,” he replied evenly, “there is only one path, but I do not wish to intrude on your privacy.”  I realized that I had offended him and he had misread my tone.

             
“No, really you are not . . . in fact, I hoped to see you again.” I said, trying to keep the eagerness out of my voice, but wanting to clear up any earlier misunderstanding.  

             
“I desired to see you again too,” he said softly, “and I did not wish you to have regret at our first encounter yesterday. I realized that may have given you some cause for concern.”

             
His comments took me aback, I wasn’t sure how to respond, and he was standing so close to me now. His eyes seemed to be playing tricks with my mind, I could hear unspoken words there, and when he did speak, I could feel his eyes belying the other conversation that was happening in my head.  He lowered his long dark eyelashes and the spell was broken.

             
This was madness, it felt as though I were going insane.

             
I collected my thoughts quickly, focused on questions and tried to distance myself from the part of my mind that had been working to understand this silent dialogue. I certainly had no regret in meeting Darius or seeing him again, in fact quite the opposite, but I pushed these thoughts away.

             
“Yesterday, I was just a little surprised,” I said warmly, “but I assume you have lived here for a while and so must know of the history of Ravens Deep,” I hesitated for a moment, “I was hoping that you might tell me what you know?” I said meeting his gaze with my own, which only made my pulse quicken once more.  I tore my eyes from him and hoped he could not sense my feelings, as I myself found them incomprehensible.

             
“If it is knowledge that you seek, then I will be happy to tell you what I know,” he

replied
and he offered me his arm, indicating that we should go and sit on the stone bench. His words and the gesture surprised me, his manner seemed so charming and intriguing. I did need to sit down somewhere as my legs felt weak, from seeing Darius again? Or more realistically from the long walk. I hesitantly looked at him. I should be resisting an emotional involvement, especially with someone I hardly knew.  But I didn’t want to resist, I wanted to get to know him
much
better. I smiled and graciously took his arm. We walked to the stone bench and sat down.  I was feeling intoxicated by his nearness and inexplicably I was lost for words. Undaunted by my silence, Darius turned to me.